Novel & Cerita All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces

And when I remembered their faces only a few hours ago—drawn, pale, bone-crushed with fatigue—that pity thickened into something heavier, something close to guilt. I had bumped into a few of them in the elevator earlier. They shuffled in like zombies, black shadows smudging their eyes, their clothes wrinkled and untidy as though dragged from the floor in a rush. They carried the smell of stale coffee and exhaustion, the kind of smell that clung to you after sleepless nights. I found myself pouting in pity, my lips dipping down unconsciously as I looked at them. Still, I tried to cheer them on, tossing small encouragements into the heavy air. “Almost there,” I whispered. “You’ve got this.”

I slowly wipe blood particles off my lips. I though remain alert. Am just awakening. Am a novice to any brother Rowan's sechemes. I gaze at myself. My clothes are all torn and tattered. Numerous tears from the fall really destroyed my cloth. I circulate myself. Surrounding dust particles gradually subside. I heave. Everything and everyone finally appears into clearer view. Everyone like every pack member's. They all surround me. They all gasp at my emerges from the dust particles. Gasp over my untold rouge survival and return I guess.

But it was the only way to understand what we were really up against. As we walked to the holding area, I could see the soldiers' faces were worn and tired. Some looked like they hadn’t slept in days, others like they were on the verge of breaking down. Everyone was holding it together for the sake of the mission, but I could see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

I gazed at Atlas's anxious face, his features wavering before my eyes. "Chlo... tell me what's wrong," he said, concern etched on his handsome face. I glanced around the room, noticing all our loved ones present, their faces filled with worry, both inside and outside the door. Closing my eyes, I nestled into Atlas's embrace. I felt exhausted like never before. With a soft murmur, I confessed, "I'm... I'm okay." My head throbbed fiercely with an unbearable sensation.

I was, in fact, extremely bothered. But I smiled anyway. I had gotten very good at smiling through things. But yesterday when I walked down the main street of the local market to pick up supplies, groups of older mothers turn their heads, leaning close to one another, their eyes tracking my stomach with undisguised disgust. I was completely, utterly exhausted. The cracks were starting to show, my shoulders heavy with a bone-deep weariness as the day of the grand exhibition finally arrived.

Relearning the map of a face he'd thought he'd lost forever. “I was so lonely.” The confession came out small. Stripped. The voice of a king with his crown removed, standing in the ruins of himself, too exhausted to pretend. “You were everywhere and nowhere. In every shadow. In every room. The bed smelled like you and I couldn't ...” He pressed his face against my neck again. Breathed. “Don't leave me alone again. I can't see without you. I can't breathe.”

Waiting to see what would happen next. I walked among them slowly. My feet barely touched the ground and I felt like I was floating. I looked into each face as I passed and I could see into their hearts now. I saw fear in their eyes. Fear of me and fear of what I had become and fear of what would happen to them. I saw hatred too. Old hatred that had been building for years and would take a long time to fade. But I also saw exhaustion. Deep bone weariness from fighting and running and hiding for so long. And underneath all of that I saw something small and fragile. Hope.

I couldn’t afford any delays. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I forced myself to stand. My legs felt shaky as I rushed back to the sink. I needed to wash my face, to feel at least a little more human. But when I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized the person staring back at me. My eyes were swollen, and rimmed with red, and the exhaustion on my face made me look older, worn out. I sighed heavily, splashing cold water onto my face. The shock of it did little to soothe the pounding in my head, but it was something. I gripped the edge of the sink, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the pain.

are the last words I hear before fate strikes. A plethora of pretty ladies crowd around me instantly, something I've learned to deal with. Many new faces are around, made up in oblivion. I smile instantly, trying desperately to mask the sudden discomfort underneath. I used to be at home under those admiring gazes, but now they scare me like I'm a deer caught in the headlights.

I repeated it three times, washing my face vigorously. Then I stared into the reflection. Nothing. The same face stared right back at me with the only difference being that I'd washed off some blood crust on my face, gotten a bit of life, just a tiny bit. Her sunken eyes and swollen eyes stayed right back at me, my bruised jaw too. I still looked hollow and broken, like I'd handled my entire life worth of problems in one day. I sat back on my heels, breathing hard, still unable to believe this.